


Living Hell

by 80sGayTrashGoblin



Category: Voltron: Lion Force (1984)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Disorder, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Depression, Drug Abuse, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Pre-Canon, Self-Medication, Suicidal Thoughts, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, author is projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26022982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/80sGayTrashGoblin/pseuds/80sGayTrashGoblin
Summary: A quick rap on his door pulled Keith out of his thoughts. “Keith? Bud?” Lance said. “You coming to our study session?”He wanted to go so badly, talk to the others, get some help, but he would be begging for attention, he didn’t need to burden them-“No, you guys go without me. I just need a few hours to plow through this all.”There was a pause, then a muttered “Okay” before Lance left.Keith sighed, just dropping his head onto the desk. A heavy ache settled in his chest, a familiar pain that he was used to nowadays.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Living Hell

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is largely me projecting my thirteen year old self onto Keith. I was having a rough time back then, but thankfully I am in a much better place now. 
> 
> It details some of what I experienced with anxiety and depression back then (obviously some things are changed), so please heed the trigger warnings.

Keith sighed, the words on the paper blending together. He’d been spending three hours on this one math problem. 

_What was his problem?_

He closed the file folder, putting his head in his hands. Doing things felt pointless now, considering the situation. 

_Is any of this worth it?_

His father was fighting his mom for custody. His father was rich, and likely to win the case. His father also didn’t approve of him being in the Garrison, and was likely to pull him to go to a private medical school. 

_Why can’t I do anything?_

Keith’s memory was sketchy. It was like reverse swiss cheese, and even those memories he had were foggy up til a year ago. His mom said his father was abusive, the court says he wasn’t. But he couldn’t remember. For all he knew, his father could be a complete saint. 

_Why can’t I remember anything?_

This has happened the past few days: Keith got distracted and couldn’t do his work. His grades were already slipping. He was nothing without his grades. He would’ve been dropped immediately if they slipped. But he’ll be dropped anyways. 

_Why is he so useless?_

A quick rap on his door pulled Keith out of his thoughts. “Keith? Bud?” Lance said. “You coming to our study session?” 

He wanted to go so badly, talk to the others, get some help, but he would be begging for attention, he didn’t need to burden them-

“No, you guys go without me. I just need a few hours to plow through this all.” 

There was a pause, then a muttered “Okay” before Lance left. 

Keith sighed, just dropping his head onto the desk. A heavy ache settled in his chest, a familiar pain that he was used to nowadays. 

Those dark talons took root in his mind again, echoing the words of his father, his friends, his teachers. 

_Why are you so pathetic? Why do you stay inside so much? Why are you always late? Why are you so pathetic? Why can’t you remember anything? Why can’t you do anything? Why are you so pathetic? Why are you seeking so much attention? Why are you an imposter? **Why are you so pathetic?**_

**_Save them the trouble and die._ **

* * *

Keith tried, he really did. But it was hard. 

A tiredness settled into his bones, and he found it harder and harder to physically get out of bed. He was getting behind on his homework. There was a physical ache in his chest and a pounding headache. He was staying up later. He was relying on caffeine more. He was distancing himself from his friends. The dark voices in his mind settled in there more. 

He was starting to become late, and when he found that the door was locked, he bolted, hiding in the bathroom for the entire day and faking sick until going home. He stopped eating breakfast and lunch, punishing himself for being late and slipping. Slipping slipping slipping. He was spiraling more, panicking easier, and yet everything felt dull, as if he couldn’t feel the tears running down his face. He felt everything and nothing at the same time. 

It was living hell. 

He didn’t know how it clicked in his mind, but he found himself looking up symptoms of depression one day. 

He figured it was bad that he matched every single symptom listed on the website. 

He ordered the most common medication: Lexapro. It was surprisingly easy to lie about who he was in order to get it. He supposed that he just had to sit there and wait. 

Logically, he knew the proper thing to do was to go see a psychiatrist first. But a much larger part of him said that that would be seeking attention and burdening others. No, much better to solve the problem himself. 

* * *

When he got it, he took one a day for a week. Nothing happened. 

Two a day, for a week. Nothing happened. 

Three a day, for a week. His teachers all remarked on how his grades stopped slipping and his work was being turned in again. Otherwise nothing happened. 

Four a day. Five a day. Six a day. His grades stabilized, and he was turning in work, and he was turning up to classes again, but he still felt the other things. He still wasn’t eating, he still felt the pain in his chest, everything still felt dull, everything still felt physically hard to do. 

He still was miserable. The medication wasn’t fixing anything except his academic success. Which is all his father cared about. 

Your career is the only thing, Keith. If you choose to follow your dream, you’ll end up penniless on the street.

He figured he just wasn’t taking enough. He kept taking more, and more, and more. 

He was caught when he was one and a half weeks into ten a day. 

* * *

“What’s the deal with Keith?” Hunk asked, slipping into his seat at their table. 

Everyone looked at Lance. 

“Don’t look at me.” Lance muttered. “He hasn’t been talking to me.” 

They were having dinner, but Keith wasn’t there. He usually has dinner in his room in their dorm nowadays, but not with the group anymore. Everyone was worried about him. Especially Lance.

It was no secret that Keith and Lance were close, closer than the others, even his ex Sven (they were still friends though). It was also beaten into Lance’s head by his friends (excluding Keith) a few weeks ago about the fact that he was in love with Keith. Which he was pretty sure that his friend didn’t reciprocate, but it was fine. He just wanted to make sure Keith was okay.

“Lance, go check in on him,” Hunk said, nudging his friend who was lost in thought. 

Lance nodded, passing his tray wordlessly to Sven. “Save it for me?” 

He nodded back. “Vil do.” 

Lance moved across campus on auto pilot, not even thinking about where he was going. He stepped into their apartment, not even bothering to knock on the door before going into Keith’s room.

“Keith!” Lance ran and tackled him. The pill bottle in his hand fell to the floor, scattering all along the ground, joining the knocked over glass of water. 

“Lance!” His eyes were wide, and Lance was suddenly keenly aware of the fact that he was currently pinning Keith down on the floor. 

“Keith, what the fuck?” Lance asked, letting everything he felt seep into his voice. “What’s going on? And don’t tell me that you’re fine, or some bullshit, or some excuse. Just, tell me what’s going on.” 

Lance pulled Keith up, so they were sitting on the floor. Keith curled inwards on himself, his breath uneven and stuttered and shaky. Tears were gathering in both of their eyes, and Lance waited. 

Eventually, Keith started talking. About what was going on with his family, every detail of the custody case. About how he keeps obsessing over the details, wondering what he could do differently or what he could do at all. About how he keeps getting trapped in his own mind, unable to physically move to do things or get out of bed. About the constant pain in his chest, and the numbness and anxiety he feels. About how he looked up symptoms of depression, and he checked every symptom. About how he secretly ordered medication, and started taking it, and taking it, and it had no effect on how he felt other than his grades. About his abusive dad. About his memory, or lack thereof. And eventually, they just sat there, Keith leaning on Lance’s shoulder while tears silently went down his face. 

“I’m just tired.” Keith muttered under his breath. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to just sleep, forever. Not have to worry about custody, or school, or the future. Sometimes I wonder how you guys would do, without me pulling you back.”

“Keith…” Lance muttered, grabbing Keith’s hands. “Listen to me, please. You’re not holding us back-” 

“I am!” Keith exclaimed, then paused, his face scrunching up as if the words were stopped in his throat. “Hunk would be able to get that degree he wanted in some other school. Pidge wouldn’t be exposed to this shit and be able to be a child. Sven would go to some rich school and get a degree. You would be happy on a farm somewhere.” 

Keith kept talking, and talking, and spiraling in on himself. Lance tried to butt in, but he either couldn’t hear him or kept dismissing him. 

“I’ve been trying to avoid seeking attention-” 

“That’s called getting help.” 

“And being a burden-” 

“You’re not a burden!” 

“And I’ve physically stopped being able to do things on my own, and I’ve been relying on medications, and I’m pathetic, and maybe they’re right, maybe I should kill myself.” 

The room went completely silent. 

“Keith.” Lance grabbed his hands again, squeezing them tightly to get his attention. “Please, don’t. We’d all miss you-”

“You’d all miss me, but you’d all move on,” he muttered, hands still staring at the floor. 

It took Lance a few seconds to process that, and then process the stupid idea that popped into his head, and then recognize that the idea was stupid, and then decided to do it anyways. 

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss onto Keith’s lips. They stayed like that for a few moments, then he pulled back. 

“Keith, I love you,” Lance said, holding as tightly as possible to Keith’s hands. “If you killed yourself, I’d follow you.” 

“Lance.” His voice was shaky, eyes wide and filled with tears. It was then that he finally broke down sobbing. 

Lance grabbed Keith by his jacket, pulling him into a hug as he sobbed into his shoulder. He needed to let it out, and Lance was more than happy to stay with him for as long as he needed. 


End file.
